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Ann aimed the gun at Teresa and shifted her eyes to see if Maggie was okay. A bound man knelt next to her. He lifted his head and met her eyes.
Ann’s world broke and crumbled into pieces. She couldn’t speak, she couldn’t move, it was all she could do to remain standing.
Her dad struggled against ropes tying his hands. Ann ran to him and began to loosen them. The ground tilted. Ann threw her hands out to the side for balance. The sound of stone grating on stone filled the air. The plaster walls shifted, warped, and transformed into brown, sandy rock.
A pool of water stood to her left. A man with a wild mane of hair gazed into it. Teresa approached him. He turned.
His face was a grotesque combination of man and beast. He took a step toward Teresa. No, not a step. He had no feet. To Ann’s horror, from the waist down he was a serpent.
Yaldabaoth.
Chills broke out on her arms and sent an involuntary shudder through her body.
He took something from Teresa’s hand—a large syringe by the look of it—and kissed her.
“Fr–freeze,” Ann said again. The tremor in her hands coursed up to her elbows.
Yaldabaoth jammed the needle into his arm and injected it. Ann could only surmise it was the seventh soul.
The cave shook. Stones crumbled from the ceiling. The pool rippled and churned.
Ann ran to Teresa, who stood transfixed, staring at Yaldabaoth as the power of the seventh soul coursed through him. She pulled Teresa away.
“He needs to be harnessed,” Ann shouted over the churn of water and rumble of earth. “Didn’t you read the book?”
Teresa’s eyes were wide. The woman didn’t have a fucking clue. Ann ran to her father and worked on his ropes.
“What do I do?” she cried.
Yaldabaoth’s booming voice said, “Sons and daughters, rise.”
Ann looked over her shoulder. Yaldabaoth held his hand over the pool. The water boiled, thick now, like hot tar.
“Get Maggie out of here.” Bram rubbed his wrists and stared over her shoulder at Yaldabaoth.
“How? There’s no way out,” Ann said. “We need to harness him. We don’t have a vessel!”
She looked again. Seven figures rose from the pool. The seven bloods, the seven souls. All but one Ann knew. The seventh must have been a manifestation of Marcie’s unborn child.
Bram turned to Maggie and untied her ropes. They left her wrists raw and bloody. He placed a hand on Ann’s shoulder. “We have Teresa,” Bram whispered. “You can be with Derrick again, like I wanted.”
Ann flung a thumb over her shoulder toward the seven. “Derrick’s dead.” She searched her father’s eyes. “We can’t use Teresa—she’s crazy. Having that woman carrying this evil around in her—no. It can’t be her.”
Bram pulled Ann into an embrace. “It has to be me then,” he whispered.
“No, dad. You can’t. Not after all this time. Please. It’s supposed to be me. I’m the one. I’m the Protector.”
“You keep Maggie safe. That is your duty.” His voice held a commanding tone.
The ground bucked underneath them. More rocks fell from the ceiling. Ann lurched forward to protect Maggie from the debris.
Yaldabaoth’s laughter rose above all other noise. “Poor simple mortals.” He lifted his hands. “I bind thee.”
Fleshy red ropes flew toward them. Bram slammed backward as the ropes made of umbilical cord, or something like it, bound him to the cave wall. Ann held on tight to Maggie and glanced toward a dark passage to the left of the pool.
No, she couldn’t abandon her father. She could save them both. She stood and put herself between Maggie and the monster.
“You can’t have her,” she said.
Yaldabaoth laughed. “I don’t want her,” he said, slithering closer to them. “I want to kill her.”
Another set of umbilici flew from his hands.
They pinned Ann, like her dad, against the wall. She struggled against them, repulsed by their living warmth.
Teresa stepped in front of Yaldabaoth, stopping him in his tracks.
“Where are they?” she asked. “Where is my Tiffany? Where is my husband?”
Yaldabaoth lifted Teresa by the arms. Her shoulders shot up to her ears, and she let out a surprised gasp. He pulled her close.
“There is no Tiffany.” He leaned back as if to enjoy whatever look might be on her face.
“I saw her. I held her. She came to me.” Teresa’s voice climbed higher and higher with each phrase.
“There never was a Tiffany. It was always. Just. Me.” He licked the side of her face with his forked tongue.
A high-pitched keen issued from Teresa’s throat. She pounded his chest with her fists.
Yaldabaoth scoffed and tossed her to the side. She hit the wall and landed in a limp heap. He continued to slither toward Maggie, taking his sweet time. Drawing out the inevitable.
Maggie backed up against the wall between Ann and Bram.
“Don’t touch her!” Ann cried. She struggled again. Maggie looked up at her. Her eyes glowed. She stepped away from the wall and from whatever protection being near Ann and Bram might give her.